


Second-Best

by mercuriosity



Category: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Adams
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-11
Updated: 2005-09-11
Packaged: 2017-10-06 07:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuriosity/pseuds/mercuriosity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur learns to embrace the spirit of compromise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second-Best

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daegaer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/gifts).



> A birthday gift for Daegaer. Thanks to afrai for helpful beta comments!

"Get lost, Arthur," Trillian said. She stalked out of the room.

"But it's our cosmic duty!" Arthur cried after her. "Tricia, wait!"

Trillian hurried down the corridor, doing her best to ignore Arthur's increasingly faint entreaties. A headache was beginning to pound behind her left eye, and she knew from experience that the only way to get rid of it was to pass it on to someone else.

"Ford!" she said, whisking through the doorway of the main control room. "You have got to _do_ something about Arthur."

"Have I?" Ford looked up from where he was rigging the sub-etha waveband receiver to pick up transmissions from the notorious Eroticon-based broadcasting networks, which were officially banned in all major areas of the galaxy yet still managed to generate more advertising revenue than all the other networks combined. "What's he been doing now?"

"He's been pestering me about saving the human race again."

"I'm sorry?"

Trillian sighed. "He's been going on all week about our obligation, as he puts it, to repopulate the human race."

"Oh, dear," said Ford.

"Yes!" Trillian said, rather desperately. "Exactly! I want you to make him stop!"

"Me? What's it got to do with me?"

"_You_ rescued him and brought him along, it's _your_ responsibility if he's making a nuisance of himself to everyone on board."

"Trillian, he's not anyone's responsibility," Ford protested. "He's a grown man."

"Yes, but he's also _Arthur_," she said pointedly, and glared at him.

Ford sighed. "All right, all right. I'll see what I can do."

\---

Ford found Arthur sitting where Trillian had left him, looking glumly into a cup of something almost, but not quite, entirely unlike tea.

"Hello, Arthur," he said brightly, and sat down on the sofa.

"Hello, Ford," Arthur replied. After a moment's pause, he said, "You know, I think I'm finally beginning to understand Marvin."

"Is that so?" Ford said, mentally calculating. It was worse than he'd thought. He had to plan his next move carefully, be as non-threatening as possible. Subtlety was key.

He put his hand on Arthur's thigh.

Arthur's eyes grew very wide. "What the hell are you doing?" he yelled.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Ford said, incredulous. "Don't try and tell me they don't have this on Earth, because I've been there."

"No, I mean-- Why?"

Ford sighed. "Look," he said, "I talked to Trillian, and she told me all about your, well--suggestion."

"Did she say she was coming 'round to the idea?" Arthur asked hopefully.

"No," said Ford. "But I think I have a solution to your problem."

"Yes? Well, what is it?"

Ford looked pointedly at where his hand was still resting on Arthur's thigh and squeezed, once, which made Arthur's eyes go round again.

"You must be joking!" he said.

"Why would I be joking, Arthur?" Ford asked in the patient tone he used when Arthur went into one of his hysterical fits. "I know you miss Earth. Obviously, you're grasping for any connection you still have, like, say, a member of your own species. I was on Earth for fifteen years, Arthur, which at this point is longer than anyone else in the Universe, after yourself and Trillian. So I'm clearly the best alternative if she's reluctant. Now let's get you out of that bathrobe."

"Wait!" Arthur cried, desperately trying to preserve his modesty as Ford began to undo his robe and, also, to kiss his neck. "But you-- I mean, we can't-- you're not female!" he blurted.

Ford sat back, staring. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"We can't procreate," Arthur said, clinging to this hint of logic like a hitchhiker to his towel on the planet of Krembrulon Five, a world made almost entirely of quicksand. "Which was the whole point," he added.

Ford frowned. "Arthur. Really," he said. "A little lie to get someone into bed, okay, but between friends? I thought better of you. And anyway, the whole point of a compromise is that you can't get _everything_ you want. Now can we stop debating and get on with it?"

"We are not getting on with anything!" Arthur squeaked.

"Why not, for Zarquon's sake?"

"Because, because you're--you!"

Arthur knew immediately it had been the wrong thing to say. Ford's body went stiff and his eyes went cold. He stood up abruptly.

"Never mind, then," he said in an offended tone. "If the idea's so repulsive to you, I'll just remove my appalling self from your presence."

He stormed out the door. Arthur gaped.

"But, but," he sputtered. He felt a curious sense of loss, watching Ford's retreating back, like a second wave of homesickness. Which was ridiculous, as he'd already had his home taken from him in the most dramatic and complete way possible. Or so he'd thought.

"Thank you!" chirped the door, as it slid shut.

\---

Over the next few days, Arthur came to the realization that blowing up his planet had merely been the beginning of what the Universe had in store for him. He didn't know why, exactly, the Universe had it in for him, but it very clearly did. Not only was he planetless and stranded on a ship with only two aliens, a depressive robot, an entirely unsympathetic astrophysicist, and an annoyingly perky computer for company, now two of them weren't talking to him at all. Trillian had proved "Not If You Were The Last Man On Earth" beyond any reasonable doubt, had then moved on to "Not Even At Infinite Improbability," and had finally resorted to determined silence.

Ford, on the other hand, had mastered the knack of always being in the same room as Arthur just long enough to leave with an offended air. Arthur had tried once or twice to sneak up on him, but after hearing Ford mutter something to himself about extending the entry for "jerk" to include a list of known examples, he became rather disheartened. Only the thought of trying to talk to Zaphod about the relative merits of league versus union gave him the resolve to keep trying.

He finally managed to ambush Ford in the galley, where he was arguing unsuccessfully with a Nutrimatic machine that dispensed sandwiches roughly the same color and texture as the ship itself.

"Ford!" he yelped, leaping forward and strategically blocking all escape routes. "We need to talk!"

Ford, seeing himself cornered, did not deign to struggle, and merely sniffed. "I can't imagine what you could possibly have to say to someone as vile as myself. Now if you would please move out of my way--"

"No, Ford, wait," Arthur said hurriedly. "I-- I don't think you're disgusting."

Ford raised an eyebrow and sidled toward the exit. "Is that all?"

"No! I mean, I think you're quite nice, actually," Arthur continued.

Ford sidled again.

Arthur began to panic. "And-- and I want to do it! With you! Um."

Ford stopped sidling. "Really?"

"Er," said Arthur.

"Forget it, Arthur," Ford said in disgust. "Don't compromise your extremely discerning tastes and antiquated morals just to appease me, _please_. I'm not interested if you're just going to lie back and think of Earth." He turned to go.

Arthur began to panic in a way that made his previous panic look composed. His brain sputtered, stopped, and finally began frantically waving a distress flag. He watched, in some astonishment, as his own hands reached out and placed themselves in Ford's hair. After that, it only seemed reasonable to tug, none too gently, and put his lips firmly upon Ford's. His tongue did something he hadn't even known it was capable of, and Ford stopped struggling.

After about a minute, Arthur pulled back, gasping for air. He had forgotten that one should never attempt to outkiss a Betelgeusian, a species which not only rarely blinks, but also has a lung capacity famed in erotic film. Ford did not look out of breath, but he did look well-mussed, and he was grinning in a way that left Arthur feeling simultaneously relieved and terrified.

"Well, well, well," said Ford.

"Um," said Arthur.

"I'm willing to accept your apology on the grounds of that extremely well-reasoned and convincing argument," Ford continued. "I knew you'd finally come to your senses."

Arthur was silent. His brain was tentatively reasserting itself, and various thoughts were coming together to form a nebulous whole--which was a little bit about how Ford had, after all, saved his life, and a little bit about the look on Ford's face when Arthur had agreed to research the Guide with him, and a lot about how if one was going to be hopelessly lost in space amongst robots and aliens, one might as well do it with a companion. Even if said companion was also an alien.

"Yes," he said. "Well."

Ford slung an arm around his shoulders. "Come on," he said, steering Arthur toward the doorway. "Let's get you a drink or two. Then I'll show you just how good second-best can be."


End file.
